It was ninth period algebra, almost the end of the day. I'd gotten to school and immediately been attacked. My backpack was actually set on fire, and I had to abandon it on the side of the road. After that, I'd had to face several different lectures by teachers about “taking care of my things” and “not playing with fire.” And, just like always, when I tried to say what happened, they'd say to “accept responsibility” and “not to blame others.”
At lunch, my tray of steaming hot tomato soup had been purposefully flipped onto me and my white t-shirt. Then, when I walked to the bathroom to wash off, I was jumped, and my money was stolen. I then had to eat everything I could, being whatever was edible that I could scrounge from the dumpsters.
From then till ninth period, it was fine. About halfway through the class, the guidance counselor walked in with the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She talked quietly with the teacher for a short while, and the girl just stood there, awkwardly staring at us. I suppose we were doing the same thing.
She was about five and a half feet tall, just a few inches shorter than me. She always wore a light blue t-shirt and khaki shorts, with matching gloves. Her eyes were a deep purple, and her hair was, surprisingly, the colors of a rainbow.
When the teacher had finished her conversation with the counselor, she faced the class and said “This is an exchange student from -” the guidance counselor whispered in her ear. “Florida. Why don't you introduce yourself?”
The girl spoke, with the most angelic voice I'd ever heard in my life. She nervously said “Hi, my name's Dash. My family moved because of work, and I don't really know anyone, so I hope you guys will be nice to me.”
No one responded. Judging by the looks on their faces, they hated her already. She was doing worse than I had, and she had just gotten there. The teacher pointed to the empty seat next to me, and said, “You can sit there.”
Dash walked over, slid her satchel off of her shoulder, and sat down. Being the nervous wreck I am, I didn't say anything. Neither did she.
After class, it was time to go home. I followed her at a distance, because the jerks who normally beat me up were following her, too. After a few minutes, we made it to the bus lot. Dash turned towards the last bus. The leader of the group grabbed her arm and forcibly dragged her away her away. I followed, still at a distance.
He pulled her behind the building. I was eavesdropping around the corner. “Hey.” He said. “How are you doing?”
“Let me leave.” Dash replied.
“Ooh, feisty.” He said. “I like that.” The rest of the group laughed.
“Now,” he continued. “If you do as I say, I might not hurt you.” There was a rustle, and a resounding smack. “You're gonna wish you hadn't done that, bitch.” He said. There was a thud.
I whipped around the corner. Dash was crumpled on the ground, her shirt half off, with the gang surrounding her. I ran towards them and promptly slugged one of them in the back of the head. As he fell top the ground, the other six turned to me.
Their leader, who had a red hand print on the side of his face, said “Kill him.” A simple request, but his lackeys responded immediately. Two attacked me at once. I ducked under one's flying fist, and jabbed him in his armpit. His arm went limp, and, after headbutting the other one, I punched him in the stomach. Two down, four left. One launched himself at me, and I simply stuck out my fist. He ran headlong into it, knocking himself out. Three down, three left.
Two ran towards me. I Spartan-kicked one of them in the chest, launching them into a back-flip and unconsciousness, but the other one managed to connect his fist to my stomach. I doubled over, almost vomiting, and he kneed me in the head. It launched me onto my back, and he said “Any last words?”
I leaned up, and croaked out “That's cliché.” Then I brought my knee up right to where it hurts. He groaned, then toppled over. I stood up, wiping the blood off of my face, and was greeted by the leader's fist narrowly missing my head. I kicked his feet out from under him, then stood over him.. I started punching him, over and over, in the face. Then there was a hand on my shoulder and I was pulled back.
It was Dash. I looked at her, and she said “Thanks for saving me. I think they were going to gang rape me. But, that's no reason to kill one of them.”
“I'm sorry.” I replied.
“It's fine.” She said. “But now there's a bigger problem. I can't get home. My dad doesn't get off work until five, and my mom was injured in a car accident a few days ago, so she can't pick me up, either.”
“Don't worry.” I said. “I can call my brother. He'll come pick us up, and take you to our house. You can call your dad, and he can pick you up when he gets off of work.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, isn't that your glove on the ground?”
She gasped. As she ran for it, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the back of her hand. “What's that on your hand?” I asked.
She quickly pulled on her glove. “Nothing.” She said. “It's nothing.”
My brother got there late. “Who's this?” He asked. I explained what had happened. “Well, that seems likely.” He said sarcastically. “Get in the back.” After the two hour ride home was over, it was about six. Dash had texted her dad all the way there, but he hadn't responded to any of her messages. When she called his personal phone, no one picked up. Same with their home phone. She finally got hold of him on his work phone.
“Sorry, dad.” I could only hear Dash's end of the conversation. “These guys were trying to gang rape me, and -” There was a loud yell from the other end of the phone. “Dad, nothing happened. This boy saved me. He beat them all up. I'm at his house, his brother took us. Okay. Mhm. Got it. Thanks, dad.”
“So?” I asked.
“He said I could stay here for the night.” She answered.
“What?” I asked.
“Well,” She said “My dad had to stay at the office tonight. One of his clients needs something done by tomorrow morning at seven. So, he said I should stay here.”
I was shocked. Why would any father let his daughter spend the night at some unknown boy's house? Not that I wasn't glad, I mean, Dash was beautiful. But I wasn't going to try anything, not after the undeserved trust of her dad.
The next morning, I woke up on the couch. I guess my brother didn't like sharing a bed. I had let Dash stay in my room. My brother was already making three omelets. “Hey,” He said. “Why don't you go wake up sleeping beauty?”
I walked upstairs and knocked on Dash's door. There was no response. I called her name. Still nothing. I tried the door. Locked. I grabbed the key on the top of the door frame, unlocked the door, and walked in.
She was still fast asleep, almost entirely covered in blankets. I shook her shoulder. She sat up, and the covers fell off of her. It was then that I discovered that Dash (Like Fluttershy, might I add) slept naked. She looked down, then at me. The next thing I knew, I was waking up, yet again, on the couch.
My eyes opened to Dash's worried face looking down at me. I realized my head was in her lap. I sat up quickly, and a sharp pain in my head forced me to lay back down. “Stay still.” She said. “I'm sorry I hit you. I didn't mean to knock you out.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” I said. “It's my fault. I shouldn't have gone in your room.”
“Well, you're progressing fast, bro.” My brother said. “Only the second day you've known her, and you've already seen her naked. You're better at this than I was.”
“Shut up, dude.” I responded.
“Well,” He said. “I guess you won't be getting one of my world-famous omelets, then.”
“No, I'm still getting one.” I said. We all had omelets, and, because Dash had inadvertently knocked me out, my brother realized that, even if we did go to school, we'd be too late for anything besides last period. Dash called her dad, and he said it was gonna be another all-nighter, anyway, so she could stay at my house again.
Dash and I went walking around in the fields after lunch. We'd been sent by my brother to tear out old fence posts for firewood. Dash and I had spent the time getting to know each other, instead. Around seven, Dash said. “I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“It'd be easier if I showed you.” She answered. She started pulling off her shirt. My face got hot. She yelled “Turn around!” I did. After a minute or so, she said “You can turn back around now.”
The first thing I noticed was that she wasn't wearing her gloves anymore. Then I saw that they had intertwined with her shirt to create this elaborate harness-looking thingy. Before I could ask anything, she showed me the tattoo on the back of her had. It was the exact same as Rainbow Dash's cutie mark from the TV show!
“Equestria is real.” She said.
“Really?!” I asked. “Wait, how'd you know I knew what Equestria was?”
“You have a poster of the show in your room.” She said flatly.
“Right. Continue.”
“As I was saying, Equestria is real. During the incident involving him, Discord opened a portal into this world. A few ponies went through, and, when they did, transformed into human-like creatures to fit the image of this world. They were human, with the exception of their cutie marks being on the back of their hands, and that they retained their respective differences. The Pegasi kept their wings, the Unicorns kept their horns, and the Earth Ponies kept – well, they just didn't have wings or a horn.
“The portal closed before they could go back through. The twenty or so ponies trapped in this world had to make a pact to only reproduce with other ponies. Well, that was five hundred years ago. Sadly, a century or two ago, a lot of them broke the pact. Almost half of the ponies had children with humans, and almost none of these children were ponies. I'm one of the lucky few. Sadly, my mom died in childbirth, and my dad didn't – and still doesn't – have any idea what I am.
“Despite me living in New York City, and the extremely high population, it wasn't until the seventh grade when I discovered another pony. We didn't know each other very well, but we had some kind of telepathic link with each other. Her name was Adrianne. She was a pure-breed Unicorn, and she told me everything that had happened over the generations. Shortly after, she was accidentally shot in the chaos of a gang fight. That made my dad move to Florida. Then, we moved up here because of his work. Now, do you have any questions after my rant?”
“Yeah,” I said. “How do the Unicorns hide their horns?”
“Really?” She asked. “That's your question?”
“Well, it's on my mind.” I answered.
She sighed. “They wear hats, or make their hair poofy. That's how the afro originated. Anything else?”
“Yep.” I said. “What's with that getup?”
“Let me show you.” She took a deep breath, and then her wings unfurled out of holes in the back of the shirt. She spun me around and got me in a bear hug from behind. “Hold on.” She took off.
Dash flew like she wasn't even carrying me. We flew over the fields for a short while, and then we reached the edge of the farm. She landed. It was getting dark. “We should head back.” I said. Dash was about to take off again when it started raining. Raining really bad.
“Crap!” She screamed. “I can't fly in this. It's too windy, we'd die.” After we found shelter underneath a large pine tree, I texted my brother and told him we couldn't make it home because of the rain. He replied with a message saying to stay dry and not to eat any wild plants.
It was really hot underneath the tree. It was one of those winter rains that seems to heat up the surrounding landscape. I walked outside of the tree's bough to collect some rainwater in as big a pool as I could in my waterproof jacket. When I came back, I found Dash sitting there in her underwear. I dropped my jacket, and water spilled everywhere.
“It's really hot.” She said. “And now the ground's soaking wet. You can't sleep there. It's dry over here. I walked over and sat down next to her. It really was hot. I took off my shirt, then checked the time on my phone. It was ten thirty.
“We should go to sleep.” I said.
“Yeah.” Dash agreed. We laid down, and she pulled me closer to her. She whispered “I think I kinda like you.” Then she kissed me. I don't really think I need to explain what else happened that night.
The rain had stopped around midnight. Sadly, it had started snowing. We woke up freezing cold in our underwear, with snow all around the outside of the tree. We pulled on our clothes and walked outside. There was two feet of snow. Dash somehow managed to fly us home in the snow, and, when we got there, it was four and a half feet deep. My brother opened a window and let us in that way, because he didn't want it all to come in the door.
Dash called her dad, and he said he couldn't even leave work, so she'd have to stay the night again. My brother spent two hours shoveling a path to the garage. Then he attached the plow to his truck and plowed a way to the main road. He drove us to the grocery store and left us on our own with fifty bucks while he went shopping by himself. We spent almost all of it on some birth control pills for Dash, and then we spent what was left on some giant lollipops.
About an hour later, my brother had finished shopping and drove us home. Then, we got a call from Dash's dad. He had been promoted to being the boss of that section of the company, and he was given an apartment for free at the office. He told Dash that he was selling their house and that she could stay at the apartment and at our house at her own free will.
Dash stayed with us until the snow melted on Saturday the next week. Then she spent two days with her dad. At school on Monday, that same group of jerks confronted her again. However, this time, they said they were sorry. Turns out my brother knew one of them, and, when he caught a glimpse of the kid staggering out from behind the school when we drove off, called his parents. They had promptly grounded them from everything but the kitchen sink.
The next few months passed without incident. Summer break came, and we were free to do whatever we wanted for three months of bliss. However, that's not how it played out. The first month and a half was fine. Dash would stay for three days out of the week, and we'd occasionally do it, but that was it. Nothing much. Until the twenty first day in July.
It was a special day, being that it was Dash's birthday and all, and, after she opened my present (A giant plushie of rainbow dash), and we'd eaten some cake, we went outside and walked around for a while. After two hours, it was seven. We laid down on the ground and watched the sunset. That's when I saw it. A small shape blotting the sky to the north. I pointed it out to Dash.
“Look at that.” I said. “What do you think it is?”
“I don't know.” Dash answered “But it's getting closer. Let's fly up and check it out.” Dash took off her shirt and rearranged it into her flight suit. Then She grabbed me, and we were off. After two or three minutes, the object was big enough to be recognized. Except, it didn't look like anything either of us had ever seen before.
It was a small aircraft, big enough to fit one person. There weren't any guns or missiles on it, only some hooks on the top. Dash purposefully caught her feet in one, and I did the same. The man flying it got out and walked toward us, expertly hooking his feet in the footholds. His hand was at a sword on his belt.
“Hello.” He said. He spoke with a thick British accent.“My name is Eric, and I will be your informer today.”
“What?” Dash asked.
“Allow me to explain.” The man continued. “During the civil war, president Abraham Lincoln was born. He is renowned for always wearing a top hat. That wasn't a fashion statement. One of Lincoln's parent's was human. The other, well, the other was a Unicorn, hence Lincoln's tall hat. John Wilkes Booth, Lincoln's assassin, was actually, though every historian alive will deny it, Lincoln's brother-in-law. This is how Booth inadvertently discovered the truth about Lincoln's existence.
“After Booth's wife gave birth to a son, Booth told his brother of Lincoln's true identity and the reason he was killing him. He had one final message. 'Kill all of them.' Needless to say, Booth succeeded in his assassination, and Lincoln died. Now, some one hundred and fifty years later, the organization his brother started is still alive. I am one of those in the organization.
“Don't be alarmed. I am not here to kill you. That job is for the more – violent members of our little group. Your middle school friend – Adrianne, was it? Well, we sent her and her parents a warning, as well. They didn't heed it. Now they're all dead. I suggest you listen to what I've said. You have three days. Then we will come. If you wish to turn yourself in, we will be singing in California. Farewell!”
He jumped backwards into the cockpit and sped off, flinging us off the back of the aircraft. Dash barely managed to grab me before we hit the ground. “We have to leave.” I said.
“Where will we go?” Dash asked.
“I don't know.” I answered. “We have to ask my brother.” We flew home and told my brother the entire story. While he's good-natured and humorous most of the time, when it has to deal with death and other serious things, that attitude disappears.
When I had finished, he said “I can't go with you.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I have to take care of the house.” He answered. “The last thing I ever heard Mom say was to keep the house safe while she was gone. That when she and Dad left to go to the movies, the night they died in that wreck. I want to honor that last request of hers.” He went into his bedroom and came back out. “Here, I've been saving up some money for a new car. You can have it.” He handed me two thousand dollars in hundreds.
“I can't take this.” I said.
“Yes you can!” He yelled. “I'm only staying because Mom told me to. If it weren't for that, I'd be going with you. This is the least I can do to make up for it. Now go!” I said goodbye, and we left.
The first thing Dash and I did was leave town. We hitchhiked our way to the train station, and, from there, bought a ticket to Helena. On the train ride over, I figured out the cryptic message that Eric guy gave us. I woke up Dash, who was asleep on my shoulder.
“What?” She moaned.
“I figured out what that guy, Eric, meant by 'singing in California.'” I said.
“What did he mean?” She asked.
“I think it means they're in Los Angeles.”
“How did you deduce this?”
“Well, LA stands for Los Angeles, and la is both one of the words in the Solfège sightreading technique, and also, it's just a general term for singing. It's the last place they'd expect us to go, so I think we should camp out in the city for a while.” So, we got off the train at the next stop and bought tickets to my old hometown, Los Angeles.
After a day long ride to LA, we decided to meet up with my old friend Jon. He's really resourceful, even though he's poor as dirt and hasn't had a girlfriend for ten years. (I forgot to mention, he's thirty years old, twice my age.) It didn't take me long to find him. We'd kept in touch after I moved, and, after I explained the situation (I just said Dash and I were on the run. The whole “pony” thing was a bit too difficult of a concept to grasp, unless it's told face to face.), he told us where his house was.
When I walked in the front door, he grabbed me in an inescapable bear hug. After he dropped me onto the ground, and I'd filled my lungs with air once again, I told him I had to elaborate on the situation. He showed us into his living room.
As I explained, he would ask questions neither Dash nor I knew the answers to, like “How'd the portal close?” and “Why do they want to kill all of you guys?” When I was finished, Jon said “Well, it looks like you guys need to take them all out.”
“Excuse me, what?” I asked, shocked.
“You need to find their base and slaughter them.” He answered. “All of them. Then, there's no possible way they could kill you.”
“That makes sense” I said. “But it's really risky. A bit too risky, for my tastes.”
“Well” Jon replied. “You're no the one whose life is in jeopardy. Let's ask the lady what she thinks, and we'll go with what she decides.”
We both looked at Dash. She was sitting on the couch, looking down at her feet. “We should kill them.” She said. “Decimate them.”
“What?” I asked.
“They killed Adrianne.” She reasoned. “She was my first friend. They deserve to die.”
“Well” Jon said. “There you go. We set off tonight.”
We arrived at the headquarters of the only pony shop (Bit obvious, if you ask me) after a few hours of preparation. We had spent money on guns and what not, and saved enough for the trip back, along with other luxuries (Which was $1,000). When we walked into the shop, we asked the front desk lady if we could see Eric. She escorted us into a waiting room. After we'd sat there for a while, Dash started to look sleepy. Her head was nodding, and I could tell she was fighting to stay awake.
“Hey Dash.” I said. “We should stay awake.”
“I'm trying to.” She replied. “I'm getting unnaturally sleepy too fast.”
“Me too.” Said Jon.
“That's strange.” I replied. “I don't feel anything.” I looked around the room for anything odd. There was a weird haze over the floor vents. I went over and placed my hand above one. They were running. I took a big whiff of the stuff. My mistake. I later learned it was the gaseous form of chloroform.
I woke up in a dark room. It was made up of black bricks, with the only way outside being a thick metal door. Jon was still unconscious, his wrists in shackles on the wall. Dash was currently being held back by four men. “Run!' She yelled. Only then did I look ahead and see five more men. Along with this, Eric was standing there with a daikatana (One handed katana) at my throat.
I did what I'd done to that guy that was trying to gang-rape Dash so long ago. I Spartan-kicked Eric in the chest. He flew backwards, knocking over the other five men behind him. I dug into my pocket and pulled out the revolver. Eric was now walking towards me. I unloaded three shots. That woke up Jon. Regardless, Eric simply raised his daikatana faster than I could watch, and blocked all three of the shots. Two ricocheted dangerously close to Dash. She yelped.
Eric pressed the tip of the sword to my chest. “This” He said “Is a daikatana made out of bullet-proof steel. And I'm the leader of this little group, so there's not really any way you can kill me with mere bullets.”
“But you said you were just the messenger!” Dash said.
“Oh, I wasn't lying when I said that.” Eric replied. “In the tradition of this organization – unless you count the original kill with Booth – the leader never performs assassinations. Which is why I don't want to kill you. I'd break the chain. But, you tried to kill me. So, it's gotta happen.” He pulled back his sword.
“NO!” Dash screamed. I closed my eyes. I heard a thud, felt a rush of air, and then heard the sound of a sword stabbing through flesh. But I didn't feel anything. I opened my eyes. Dash was standing in front of me, a bloody sword blade sticking out from in between her breasts. Eric withdrew the blade. Dash fell down, and I caught her.
It was the last time I would ever see her beautiful purple eyes. It was also the last time I would hear her voice. She reached her hand up and gently pulled my head down. She kissed me. Then, she whispered “I love you.” Then her eyes closed. I gently set her down. Then I lunged for the revolver. That was as far as my sanity could reach.
Next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of the room, with a bloody daikatana in my right hand, and an empty revolver in my left. Dead and dying men were all around me. Three of them were missing limbs, and bleeding out on the floor. Two had been decapitated. Four had multiple puncture wounds in the chest. Eric's corpse was the worst of them all.
He had three bullet wounds in his forehead, which wasn't on his body. All four of his limbs had been lopped off. His ribcage had been ripped open (By hand, Jon later told me), and the organs beneath had been brutally eviscerated.
I walked over to Jon and sliced the chains. He fell to the ground and ripped off the shackles. I hurried over to Dash's body. I pressed my hand against the sword wound in her chest to stop the bleeding. Then I checked for her breathing. It was there. Very faint and ragged, but it was still there.
Jon and I rushed her to a hospital. After examining her body, they discovered that Eric had missed her heart by mere millimeters. He had pierced her left lung, though. She was in a coma for three weeks. Then she died.
Two days later, I was back on the old farm in Montana. We had just finished Dash's funeral. Her dad had agreed to bury her in the field directly outside of my house because (As he put it) “We'd been such good friends.” There weren't many people. There was my brother, Jon, Dash's dad, dome of his business friends who knew Dash, and I. It wasn't anything fancy. Just a few words, the burial, and the solemn good-byes.
Two weeks later, we got the headstone. Nothing really fancy, just her name and the dates of her birth and death. The only thing that set it apart from other ones is that I carved out a little compartment. In this compartment I placed the last thing I would ever give to Dash. It was a short poem entitled Dash, My Love.
